The newly made mini-Olives repeated the process, kissing and spreading their gift throughout the college and increasing their numbers. After the 3rd generation their was virtually no difference between the newly made Olives and the original, they had been cloned completely and stripped of their individuality.
Miss Olive the first worried a bit, she knew she needed them to work well and synchronized, but a whole team of herself that all thought alike might be rather stiff pickings wouldn't it? She couldn't work through that problem quick enough, as her-selves had already gathered and perpared what she needed.
Two representatives, teacherly young facility members walked over from a far in their blouses, perfectly trim bobs, pantyhose and folded hands prepared their first meet with the crowd of Olives. Despite their pretend looks of callous indifference, they could sense the clones were afraid, they were imperfect hastily rushed drones afterall. But why would only two approach the group? Original Miss Olive commanded her other selves to stay put, as she approached them carefully herself. Now as not the time to be rash, something was afoot.
